Respect+

Having shadowed Dutch Van der Linde for what felt like a lifetime, every member of the inner circle, almost by osmosis, had absorbed a thing or two about his peculiar methods. Dutch, you see, was a master puppeteer, and his favorite string was kindness.

He loved to weave bonds of benevolent obligation, making people so beholden to him that they wouldn't want to, or couldn't possibly, escape his charismatic orbit.

Hosea, a seasoned scholar in Dutch's school of human manipulation, understood this perfectly. So, with a warm, welcoming gesture, he immediately instructed everyone to simply come inside and eat. It was the simplest, most effective charm.

Following Hosea's quiet command, the thirty armed guards, previously looming like silent, watchful statues, casually dispersed, no longer encircling the wary Indians. Sean, meanwhile, swaggered forward, a wide, gleeful grin plastered across his face, his arms thrown wide in an exaggerated gesture of welcome.

"Oh, friends, friends, come with me!" Sean boomed, his voice echoing with an almost comical theatricality. He beckoned them forward. "Let's go in and eat first, eh? My goodness, look at you all, so thin and pale, like scarecrows! You haven't been living well lately, have you, you poor suckers?"

Sean's big, boisterous mouth was, surprisingly, perfectly suited for this particular brand of 'communication.' His overwhelming, almost aggressively friendly enthusiasm had a way of disarming people, making them feel seen, if a little overwhelmed.

The group of Indians, their shoulders slumping with a mixture of relief and exhaustion, having already lowered their guard on Rain Falls's desperate command, slowly stood up. They gathered their meager belongings, a collective rustle of worn fabric, and, like children following a pied piper, trailed after Sean into the bustling heart of Hope Ranch.

Elephant and Bear, grim-faced but compliant, took up positions to rally their tribe, nudging the stragglers, and followed Sean inside. Neither of them were men of many words, preferring the silent language of action. But even they, faced with Sean's relentless, cheerful barrage, felt compelled to offer a few mumbled responses.

"Hohoho, gentlemen!" Sean chattered, waving a hand expansively at the surrounding buildings. "My name is Sean MacGuire, you can call me Sean, of course! Just Sean will do! Now, look at our Van der Linde Gang's magnificent factory, isn't it just incredibly impressive? Isn't it a sight to behold?" He paused for dramatic effect, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Actually, I'm still amazed myself every blessed time I see it! Gentlemen, do you know? Just three months ago, I was actually in the clammy, miserable hands of bounty hunters, tied up like a lamb to the slaughter, being abused and tormented by those sadistic bastards!" Sean actually shuddered for emphasis.

"But, after Dutch Van der Linde's ingenious plan began, look now! Those very same bounty hunters, those grinning psychopaths, now call me Mister MacGuire when they see me! Mr. MacGuire!" He puffed out his chest. "Look at this change, gentlemen! It's simply earth-shattering, isn't it? A true miracle!"

Sean laughed, a loud, booming sound, then launched into another breathless monologue. "Hahaha, don't you worry, gentlemen, not one bit! Dutch Van der Linde is smart, I tell you! All knowing! You will not suffer any discrimination or unfair treatment here, not a jot! You saw that big, strong black fellow just now, right?

Lenny! He's my good buddy, my absolute best pal! And actually, we even have one of your own, an Indian, in the gang! His name is Charles! Of course, you'll see him later, he's off with Dutch Van der Linde doing… important business right now. Oh, my goodness, gentlemen, look over there!" He pointed dramatically towards a cluster of newly built, neat wooden structures. "Those are the cozy little wooden houses Dutch Van der Linde prepared for you long ago! Although each family only has a modest six-square-meter room, I can absolutely guarantee you that life here will be… magnificent! Truly magnificent!"

Sean talked endlessly, a non-stop torrent of words that threatened to make even the most seasoned listener's head ache.

Bear, the stoic warrior from the main combat faction, who disliked unnecessary words and communication, felt his mind go completely blank. His eyes, usually sharp and wary, were glazed over by Sean's relentless yapping.

Elephant, however, managed to interject a few polite words, but his gaze was far more intently focused on the neat wooden houses Sean pointed to, and the bustling scenes within the surrounding factories. The longer Elephant surveyed the orderly, prosperous activity of Hope Ranch, the brighter his eyes glowed, a faint spark of something akin to hope igniting within him.

Behind them, over four hundred Indian men, women, and children, a silent, shuffling procession, followed the trio's footsteps. Their eyes, wide with a fragile anticipation, eagerly scanned the place where they might, finally, find a new life, a true home.

Life in the factory, for this brutal era, was nothing short of excellent. During this period, Dutch Van der Linde hadn't just recruited gunfighters and female textile workers. Oh no. He had thoughtfully, strategically, recruited every other imaginable type of worker: burly porters, keen-eyed purchasers, meticulous mechanics responsible for maintaining and repairing the sewing machines.

Even veterans, those discarded fragments of war with missing limbs, were given purpose. They might not be able to carry heavy loads or defend a bunker, but they could clean, they could wash, they could contribute. And while their wages were perhaps a shade lower than others, the factory provided free food and housing—a veritable dream come true for these broken, forgotten men.

As a result, the 'Veteran Club' in Valentine, Dutch's latest masterpiece, soared in fame, its reputation spreading like wildfire. Now, veterans from New Hanover, from the far-off lands of West Elizabeth, and even from the swamps of Lemoyne, all knew of the existence of this miraculous Veteran Club.

And every single day, a steady stream of weary, hopeful veterans, their tattered uniforms and empty eyes a testament to their sacrifice, flocked towards Valentine. This also caused the 'Veterans Mutual Aid Association,' Dutch's other brainchild, to truly soar in its renown. Now, a saying, a whispered promise, had spread throughout these three states:

"The United States Government will push you onto the battlefield, to your certain doom. American society will leave you to wander and starve. But Mr. Dutch Van der Linde's Veteran Club? It will give you a perfect answer after you retire. A new life. A new purpose." They even began calling him, not in jest, "Mr. Dutch Van der Linde, the Father of American Veterans!"

Humans, at their core, are empathetic creatures. Seeing the genuine, unburdened smiles on the faces of the workers at Hope Ranch greatly, profoundly, reduced the pervasive unease in the hearts of these Indian newcomers.

If the factory workers, ordinary folk, could be so genuinely happy, their lives here couldn't be too oppressive. And then, the final, decisive blow to their lingering anxiety: seeing the disabled veterans at Hope Ranch, their faces lined but cheerful, laughing and chatting as they cleaned, as they washed dishes. All their inner unease, every last shred of doubt, completely dissipated.

"Hope Factory," Elephant murmured, looking at the bustling, joyful scene before him, a profound emotion in his voice. "This is a factory with warmth, not a sweatshop run by greedy capitalists. I think… I think we should be able to get a very good life here."

Sean nodded vigorously, his own face alight with a smug satisfaction. "Of course, gentlemen, of course! Look at these disabled veterans! Before, they could only beg on the unforgiving streets, or resort to desperate robbery and stealing, eventually either being beaten to death in some dark alley or rotting away in a prison cell. But now? Now, they have plenty to eat and drink, endless cigarettes and alcohol, and they can even take a proper salary to town every month to have some fun! You could say Dutch Van der Linde gave them a brand new life. A resurrection!"

Sean shook his head, a genuine note of awe in his voice. "Truly, Dutch is simply… impressive. And you, my friends, you will also receive such a life. Dutch Van der Linde always likes to give others a little more."

These words, flowing from Sean's big, enthusiastic mouth, resonated deeply with Elephant and Bear, surprising them greatly. So, these people, the ones whose attitude had so miraculously changed, were all veterans?

No wonder the American soldiers had suddenly shifted their demeanor when they heard the Indians were going to join Mr. Van der Linde! It turned out that Mr. Dutch Van der Linde was truly helping them, helping everyone. Mr. Dutch Van der Linde's image in their hearts, even without having met him, had begun to swell, to grow grander than any legend. In their minds, Dutch Van der Linde was already a magnificent, kind, and profoundly respectable gentleman.

Perhaps, this was what was truly meant by a reputation worth a thousand gold pieces? No, a reputation worth a fortune.